Touch
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: Patient boys make jealous men. She'll share the same monsters as him. (Rating will change)
1. Chapter 1

**Touch**

**A/N: It's after the war and the Commander is pushing through her post-traumatic habits. What better way than to end it? **

_**I'm not an English Major. I will have flaws! I'm just doing this for the hell of it.**_

**Prologue **

Under strict procedure of relocation protocol; Shepard is shown off the ship with Admiral Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy in arm. Shepard dips her head nervously when the full glare of the sun overshadows her in an aura of low heat and a shimmer of her auburn makes her hair redder. She procrastinates until the Normandy's pilot and 'assistance droid' presses her down into docking.

"This all wouldn't have happened without you, Jane." Tali begins and her hold on Shepard becomes tighter, more defined in a protective nature of this certain human. Shepard holds her breath then exhales the rising stress of post-traumatic tendencies, and she, too, smiles a little note that warms Tali greatly. "Welcome to Rannoch. Welcome to your new home, Jane." Tali presents the greatest gift – belonging after the tides of war.

EDI analyzes' her surroundings – taking note on the environment that surrounded the Normandy in a display of neutral colors and incredible backdrops of beautiful oceans; white noise of crashing seas against rocks could be heard in the distance. "Impressive. Your people colonizes quickly. And your culture is quick to adapt with the Geth. This progress is reassuring for Shepard's stable health." EDI drones her metallic voice, blissfully smiling over the calm.

The group begins to move through the small section of tents that bloomed, soon these tents will be paved over with promising new homes. Joker latches onto EDI's side and she helps him cross gravel trailing behind Shepard and Tali. "Daunting as it is – we've progressed rapidly. Some have even taken to strengthening their newfound immune systems with help from the Geth. We're nomadic, EDI. We are a strong family race – we'll settle anything."

Two tents came into view, both equipped with a beachfront view. The flaps from the tent fluttered against the gentle breeze. "This – this is where our homes will begin, Jane. My house here and yours right next to mine." Shepard said nothing but kept her distant smile brimming. She could hear a flooded emotion in Tali's voice. "We will build our homes together. And we will thrive."

**Remembering**

"I don't know, Kal." Veetor begins, humming nervously behind his visor. Veetor taps the glass from his helmet, he hesitates, then drops his hands back down to his sides. "Perhaps – I can do this another day. Just not today."

Kal's eyes glower at the younger man, "Look. I'm doing it an hour a day to build up my immune system. It's recommended you do the same. You can't always be scared of everything that bites you in the ass." Kal leans in to unlatch his visor but Veetor leans away from the military-driven man; in retort, this earns Veetor a harder frown from Kal. "Damn it, man."

"Just not today." Veetor utters behind his comm. The light of his helmet radiating a pale light from all his nervous humming.

"You'll only make yourself sicker with all this worry. It's simple, take off your helmet and enjoy the ocean breeze. The smell of sea is damn amazing." Kal attempts to pull the visor off but Veetor simply takes another step back from his grabbing hands.

"_You can't always rush people." _The distant voice found humor in these two men. Kal quickly erected his posture, turning his full attention to Tali who called from across the field. She had a human latched to her arm – a very alive, and a _very human _Commander Shepard.

Veetor dwindled with his fingers, tilting his head to the side to capture the picture of two women approaching him and Kal. "Ma'am!" Kal begins but with Tali's free hand she waves off his formalities and proper etic when addressing a diplomat. Tali has taken off her visor and Shepard stood there holding said visor in her grasp.

"At ease." Tali smiles, her purplish lips dawning north. "I noticed you two in _quite _a heated discussion. Whatever it was had you grabbing for Veetor mask. Explain." With humor, Tali kept her smile stained on her lips and with Veetor's use of name he politely inclined his head to the two females. 

"I've tried explaining to Veetor that he needs to build up his immune system. You're not going anywhere if you're always caught up in a bubble. Bottom line, ma'am, I'm just trying to help him out." Tali walks in closer to the two men, trailing Shepard close behind her.

"Or maybe he's just not ready." Shepard simply stated, her words draping from her pink lips. Tali only nodded her head; Shepard tilts hers, "Good to see you again, Veetor." She spoke drolly, her lovely hues of emerald not entirely there. Veetor noted that the Commander looked and seemed different – he mostly remembered her for her compassionate nature towards his people.

Her hair is a lot longer, cascading natural curls of red that flooded over her bared shoulders. Her eyes gleamed a certain meaning – though assumed dead in conversation – she's seen a lot he figured. She's wearing something loose, a pearl-shaded dress that touched her knee, her bare feet digging into nature.

The man from behind the mask stutters over her tone, her dawning eyes catching glimpse of his squinting eyes behind the fogged mask – bashfully he's smiling now, twiddling with his fingers, averting his vex to the ground. He's always had this secret fixation with her. "And you, Shepard vas Normandy." Perhaps it was the exotic thrill a human could give to other species; Silver-tongued and honey-kissed words.

"Heard about your relocation, Commander. Must say, it's an honor to have you on our homeworld. Surprising, really. What brought you to our turf?" Silently, Veetor wanted to thank Kal to break up the attention placed on him. However, he still watched the way her eye placement moved and he was rather fond with the shade of green.

Military intentions were drilled into her and the three Quarian's watched the way Shepard erected her position, proudly showing her neck, her arms crossing behind her back. "They insisted on making me an Admiral. Can you believe it? No offense, Tali. They were going to take away my ship from me, put her up on display as the _Ship that slayed Reapers_. Out in space I do not have to worry about the politics and slander of news press. So, I did the next best thing. I reassigned. The galaxy has no need of me and what better way than to start new than to devote my life in helping a bunch of nomads reclaim their roots." With that, her smile grew huge. "Admiral, hah. More like a damn desk jockey. I'm a solider."

"Mhm." Tali hummed, and Shepard laughed. "I assume you're going to miss the military life."

"I miss my adopted baby before I miss a damn rifle in my hand."

"Grunt." Tali and Shepard spoke in union and they both smiled at that note.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sleeping**

Given if the fate of God or the galaxy, she was still alive. She quietly stirs, hands gripping the impossible and sweat drips down her forehead. She'd hum at first to beg away her crying, closing her eyes for the moment till it simmered to low shaking. _Just another dream. It was only a dream. Dreams can not hurt you. Not anymore. _She pulls her sheets up to cover her bare chest, searching the bases of her tent for anything to reach out and shake her.

She is welcomed by darkness and it consumes the edges of her tent.

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. Finally settling to the low beat of her heart against her ribcage.

Shepard attempts her desperate dance with sleep; she curls upon her bundle of thin cloths and smothered sheets. She's even partaken in the act of white noise by leaving her tent flaps open, letting a gentle breeze flutter against her tent; the fabric rippled and the smell of sea lingered for miles.

She was restless, she needed warmth – or perhaps death to swallow her. Either way she'd ring in much needed rest.

She'd smile on that morbid note. Picking up her sheets from around her bare body, she wrapped them around her. She'll walk barefooted through the dirt, peering out over a galaxy-smitten sky. Stars dotting every corner that wasn't plagued from artificial lights that brimmed by the nearby colony, and the Geth that stormed around the camps, making due while the quarian's casted to their dreams.

She felt a gale that ripped through the ocean's tides and she decided to hurry her pace next to Tali's tent. Quickly, she dropped to her knees then to Tali's side, nuzzling up next to her friend, and in response, Tali wrapped one arm around her.

"_They're all dead, Tali." _Shepard began, lulling her tone into Tali's ear. Her face berried into the crook of Tali's neck, her fingertips picking at the fibers of her enviro-suit.

"_You did all you could, Jane. A lot more than what others would have done." _Tali's tone cradled Shepard, and her hold on her friend grew tighter; her dexterous fingers strumming through her hair.

What troubled Tali the most about Jane's trauma is that she never uttered her emotions, that she never admitted to herself that she, too, can be weak.

Jane would be forever haunted.

**Nervous Hellos**

"Commander…" Veetor begins, his poster erects when her emerald eyes brim curious. Leaning up, Shepard stretches out her own back. The young man has a hard time matching up with her face, and the need to retreat to safer grounds appeases his senses.

"I've told you, Veetor, I'm not commander anymore. I'm Jane, just Jane – or if you're feeling technical I'll go by Shepard." She turns her back to him, hauling over her sniper. His eyes hazes over her bent back and the way that quarian customs suit her the best; she's bathed in dark purples to indicate she's taken advice from Admiral Tali'Zorah. He fumbles nervously, excusing his own blasted humming that tenses her. Veetor's mind wonders until Shepard snaps back up with weapon in hand, "Something on your mind, Veetor?" Shepard finally manages to get out.

She's patient with Veetor, letting him grip his right mind to form the words that he desperately wishes to share, but all he can stumble upon is simple phrases, and lowly idioms, "I just wanted to say hello…Shepard." He dwindles with his own fingers, completely vexed by the way her lips press together in thin, lovely lines. Veetor swallows the recycled air from within his suit.

"Well," Shepard hesitates, eyes lingering over his glass visor; Veetor freezes when he studies her tones, "Hello to you too, Veetor." And she smiles. The smile itself, is daftly beautiful, and it strums everything that relates to her beauty: her skin, her eyes, and her simple personality.

Veetor has expressed his feelings to Kal. Kal in retort would stare at him for the moment, his military complex hinging on the idea that the manic one fell for the hero of the galaxy; Kal has clarified it as hero worship, but if anything sprang from this union – he told his friend to just wing it and go with his gut. 

So, in best interest, Veetor stood out of his shell and emerged, engaging in meaningless conversation that spoke volumes to him, while Shepard idly listens to his ramblings, his doubts, and anything that came to life behind his filter.

Veetor watched the curve of her hip, the dip when she held the powerful firearm. "Shoot one of these before?" It took Veetor a moment, a second till he realized that Shepard graced him with the gift of conversation; he simply shook his head in the process.

That smile on her lips spread like the plague and she was smiling bigger in the idea of it, raveling in her own little hobbies that seemed strange to normal nomads, "Would you like to learn? I'm basically doing nothing till Tali calls me up for greenhouse duty."

Mentally, Veetor questioned Shepard's sanity in the times she mentions as _fun. _Sensibly, he would indulge in the fact that their simple little meet and greet turned into her asking him if he wanted to sport her some company while she mindlessly unloaded a clip against several old storage crates that have already been wiped clean; so without thinking he quickly inclined his head to agree.

Shepard jerked her head back to knock down her hood that hid her sun-kissed strands of red hair, her hips shifted at an angle, holding the black-steel of the model up to hold her target. Shepard would begin her little study, "It all depends on the brand of rifle. As a rule of thumb, bolt-action rifles are usually more accurate and have a slightly higher muzzle velocity." Shepard leans her head to glare off in Veetor's range, she gestured him to step closer, "I use a Black Widow."

She guided the young quarian in front of her, the close proximity sent a thrill down Veetor's spine; he humored her by asking, "W-Why?"

Shepard mulled for a moment and grinned her brightest, "I like the texture of it, but I guess fixing the solution of increasing the number of shots before changing the damn thermal chip comes as an advantage. You can only reserve fifteen, so that's three shots before your thermal clip taps out. Considering war, that's pretty damn spectacular." Shepard huffed, "Now turn around Veetor – I'm going to show you how to hold a gun." Her word play insisted – suggestive to the young lads mind, but he simply had to oblige when he felt her chest press against his back, and for the first time he felt taller than Shepard.

"Relax," Shepard squeezed from him, his light humming caused a brilliant blue from his speaker-comm. He was now feeling her multiple fingers ease their way on his hand, guiding him to the trigger. Slender, delegate index tracing down his middle finger to brush the trigger, "Now lean in. Look through the scope and pick a target you want to see blown off on its ass." She instructed as so, and he listened to every command that draped off her perfect lips, "that's right…" She whispered, "Now squeeze the trigger." Shepard quickly pulled back, the kickback was enough to topple Veetor on his rear, but he held his ground.

Shepard grinned wide, laughing blissfully with her hand thrown on his shoulder, "A little off, but what we humans believe is, that practice makes perfect." She clapped his shoulder several times till she relieved him of her firearms.

Today, she had to bid him later. And his heart swelled when she moved off on greenhouse duty. She insisted that she would show him more about gun safety.

Veetor didn't care. He just wanted to feel her alien form flush against his back again, or perhaps practice the ritual of hugging… the idea alone made Veetor's nervous stature flutter to the fathom thought of Shepard being _gentle. _

**I'll change ratings later. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Just the Three of Us**

"It's good to see you, Ash." Shepard hints a somber note, her hand grazing past Ashely's cheek, testing the waters on how close she can approach. Ashely makes no sign to move away, in fact she smiles to the brim when she can feel the texture of Shepard's hand touch her cheek, then feeling teasing fingertips dive into dark tidal waves of Ashely's hair.

"You're looking good, Skipper," The muscles in Ashely's cheeks hurt on how hard she was smiling, but she kept herself composed from lunging and wrapping herself around her old friend, "You've been eating properly? I'd hope so –"Ashely chimes her laugh, and Shepard joined her on that little page of sound.

"You could say I've gained a couple pounds over the rationings I've received. Mostly been in charge of greenhouse duty." Shepard moves her hand away from Ashely's face, self-cautiously patting her stomach in humorous intentions; she smoothed out her robes, decorated in deep purple and embroidered white lines.

"So the quarians have you workin' for your money, huh?" Ashely kept her grin, moving in closer to Shepard who practically mirror her expression; Shepard would shrug over that account. "Well. Good. I don't want you getting too fat over your lavish lifestyle."

"Because farm work fits the lavish category perfectly." Shepard quirked, rolling her eyes over the high hums of Ashely's laugh.

It's been several months' sense the dawn of the end. Months ago, Shepard was standing on top of her own unmarked grave, staring off into oblivion and contemplating that the only reason she is alive, was even born, was to be built on a foundation of war, not because of the property that someone loved her, no, those ideas were melted down in romanticized visions of living on the streets of Chicago. She'd make believe that people loved her, even smiling till the end when she watched the warped skies of the Citadel take on a different hue of stark black.

Ashely was the first to yank her from the rubble, Tali coming in second to lift her body up. Sisters in arms, watching the end of the galaxy, partaking in the thought that the end was the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, could even imagine perhaps. These women, her friends, were the only means to survive. To reap the benefit that she won them, not live off the spoils of propaganda that spread her name like the plague. They belonged to her, and her, to them.

"How's Tali?" Ashely inclined, leaning into Shepard's personal space by the inch. Shepard hauled back for a moment, mischief flooding the vex of her emerald hues.

"Tali? Oh, she's doing fine." Shepard took the moment to point to the far north of the colony, "On that hill. Over there. We've already claimed beachfront to live out our lives. We'll definably have to walk there. I just have to show you our land!" Shepard paused for a moment, her eyes still filled with pride, "and perhaps, when you take the time to actually resign yourself, you'll join me and Tali up on that hill. Our homes together."

Ashely couldn't truly help it, call her a damn waxing poetic. She had to touch her friend. Wrapping her arms securely around Shepard, she would freeze but retreated to the same motion of holding each other, "When the time comes Skipper, I'll be there with you and Tali."

For now – the only reason Ashely returns to the galaxy beyond this planet is because her own sisters and the stars that dot the map call her name.

**Beach**

When she sat upon the cliff overlooking looming dark waters, she felt an eternal need, life changing and mass shifting when she considered the valley in her mind; She'd considered life and all its simplicities, marked in horrors that the young will carry on by oral tradition, and in her twisting, fading mind, she felt at peace.

"Do you mind…if I join you Commander?" Shepard has given up on correcting Veetor when he slipped up and addressed her by former title instead of ser. She'd hum, lighthearted and full of pleasantries, nodding her head to her side to accept his company invitation.

"I don't see the harm. Please, sit." Her voice is mild, lost, drifting into tunes of whispers. She's not the same woman that burned in the embers of galaxy, swallowed by nebulas and black holes, shimmered against the Milky Ways and the rumors of taunted galaxies. She's seen things, lost many, but was granted at a fair age of thirty-one to finally settle down and soak in life.

She still had her beauty, and her free mind that wove webs of curiosities and good natured fits. She'd always smile even if there was no reason to. She had monsters, gnawing at the teeth, cradled songs that sing of demise – she ignores them. She always ignores them. She'd ignore them even if she could still hear their entity, catching children hems. She was mad, delusional – she just – ignored them.

"Beautiful, eh? Back on Earth, this is a rare thing to witness. Too many lights. People always tend to move fast too. It's good to actually witness a sunset. Blessed, actually." Shepard huffed, the sigh itself was mixed with a startled chuckle, "pity, really." Veetor is sitting so close to Shepard that her shoulder is fairly close to his; he stiffens with excitement that the object of his affection hasn't shied away from the idea. Shepard probably hasn't even noticed.

Veetor mulled over Shepard's statement, her voice falling like a flat musical note. Veetor replies slowly, "How does it feel? How does it feel to have the sun on your face?" Shepard doesn't frown, but slowly listens to his simple request. Even with the coming tides of months that passed, after all this colonization – Veetor still refuses to remove his visor. It's more out of fear of what the world presumes; he has his own monsters to hide. Shepard never presses it, but she has heard Kal quirk about it once or twice, demanding that the young quarian should step out of his bubble and breathe something other than filtered air.

"Warm." Shepard's head tilts, her hair draping to the side and Veetor cannot help but to study the human in all her curves; he's certainly blessed by the moment that she can't see his shy smile dawning north over his purpled lips behind his visor. "The breeze isn't half bad either, but mostly warm."

For the longest time they are both quiet. Veetor begins to hum softly when he can feel the weight of Shepard's head upon his shoulder; waiting till the sun is devoured by the plains of crashing ocean.

**A/N Time: Sad to say, no, this is not a KalXVeetor romance fic. I just wanted to try out a ShepardXVeetor fic, I mean, it was just something I want to see happen. Maybe? **

**Also! The next chapter will be longer. Forgive my late posting. I blame college and all the papers and projects I owe.**


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